“We can do that.”
“I was wondering; can I have room 204? I had that room last time I was here.”
“Sure, that room is vacant.” Kurt checked in and paid a deposit so no credit card record would exist. He picked up the suitcase and walked down the hall to the stairway. He climbed the flight of stairs and opened the door to his room. Once inside, he put the do not disturb sign on the outside door handle. He then set up the equipment for sound recording. He placed one listening device against the shared wall.
He listened for 30 minutes, and hearing nothing, he left his room and picked the lock on Johann’s room. Inside he found a radiator pipe that ran through the wall and used a coat hanger to create a hole through the wall next to the pipe. He ran the microphone cord through the hole and hid the microphone inside the phone. He checked the hallway and then returned to his room to finish the connection.
With the phone bugged, he took a walk downstairs to the hotel bar and had a large beer. He took this opportunity to relax. Next, he walked down Clay Allee to a park where the shade trees covered a path with flowers on both sides and mothers walking their children in strollers. He stopped to sit on a bench next to the pond. He lit a cigarette and smoked slowly, watching the people walking through the park.
As Kurt sat there, he worried about his health. His nerves seemed to be shot and he had noticed that his hands shook a little. Since the fall of the wall, he had moved further from being a policeman to being a murderer. He may not have been the best policeman, but he believed in what he did. All that was gone now and he wondered how it ever got this far.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the train pulled into Helmstedt Station, Johann grabbed his bag and made his way out of the station to the taxi stand. He walked up to the first cab in line.
“St Marienberg Clinic please.”
The taxi driver pulled away from the station and drove out onto the rain-covered streets. The rain wasn’t deep, but it had everyone driving slowly. The taxi ride took about ten minutes. As the driver pulled the cab up to the clinic’s front door, he said, “That is $8.00, sir.” Johann handed him a ten.
He stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the window of his aunt’s room. If only there were a way that he could give her strength. He remembered her as a young woman. She was always moving and had a habit of popping her gum, annoying everyone. She was so different than other adults. Deep inside he knew all he could do was pray for her and her doctors.
He walked through the lobby and took the stairs up to her floor. He walked down the quiet hallway that led to her room. As he neared her room, he heard someone call out to him.
“Hello.”
“Hello, nurse, good to see you,” Johann said as he turned.
“Your aunt is about the same. The good news is she isn’t doing worse. She appears to be holding her own.”
“Has her doctor changed her prognosis?”
“No, I am afraid not.”
“I think I will go read to her for a while.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I think she would like that.”
“Thank you.”
Johann walked into her room and sat down in the chair next to her bed. Some of the bruisings on her face had gone away and some of the cuts appeared to be healing. On the outside, it seemed she was getting better. Unfortunately, he knew that when someone was beaten, it was the internal injuries you needed to worry about.
He pulled a book from his bag, The Sorrows of Young Werther. It was his aunt’s favorite. He opened to page one and began to read. His aunt showed no response, but he went on for nearly two hours. He took a break to get a drink from the fountain. The water tasted a little like sulfur, but it quenched his thirst.
He stood at the fountain thinking of all that had happened in the past weeks. It was like a nightmare that he couldn’t wake from. He walked back to his aunt’s room and continued to read. Within the hour, he fell asleep in the chair and the nurse covered him with a blanket when she made her rounds.
Johann awakened to the sunlight coming in the window. He looked out at the clouds as they slowly passed by. The morning was cloudy and he wondered if it was warmer outside. He used his aunt’s sink to clean up, then repacked his bag and thanked the nurse for all she had done.
Outside, he could see the taxis nearby waiting for riders. He raised his hand to hail one then waited for its arrival. A driver pulled up to him.
“Train station please.”
“Yes, get in.”
The ride took about ten minutes. He walked into the station and purchased a ticket to Berlin.
Johann’s train was scheduled to leave in 40 minutes. He walked back outside to a café and got a hot cup of coffee and some bread with jam. He ate slowly, watching the cars and people walking by outside the café. In his mind, he continued to run through the information he had, trying to find connections that could help him find out why his father and mother were killed. With time running out, he paid his bill and made his way to the platform to catch the train.
After the train had left the station, he settled in for the ride. When the steward came by with the food cart, he bought a glass of wine. The wine helped him relax and he dozed off.
As he slept, he dreamed he was resting in a German Army command rail car. As he looked in the mirror, he saw himself dressed in an SS uniform from World War II. As the train moved into a populated area, the smell of death hung like a thick fog in the air. He could see the dead bodies of German soldiers lying on the ground near the tracks. Each station the train passed was filled with broken and bleeding bodies. The sights haunted him. He welcomed the solitude of the rail car and shut the blinds in an attempt to keep out the dead and dying. The train stopped in a labor camp filled with the diseased, and dying victims of the concentration camp. He was sickened by the treatment of the camp residents. Fear began to come over him like a wave. The concentration camp changed to the gas-filled trenches of the French fields where in World War I many German soldiers died. Suddenly he cried out and bolted forward, awakening himself in the process. He was shivering in a sweat-soaked sweater.
He took a minute to gain his composure and walked to the car bathroom to wash his face. The fresh water brought him back to reality as it splashed playfully on his face and neck. His mind began to clear and the tragedy and pain were just a dream. As someone who prided himself on holding his emotions, this outburst, even in a dream, disappointed him.
Just then, he heard someone at the door. He quickly gained his composure and answered, looking as if nothing had occurred. He opened the door with a snap and the young woman apologized for disturbing him. Since he had not locked the door, the light didn’t indicate the restroom was in use. He apologized for startling her and walked back to his seat.
The train pulled into the Berlin Station. Johann picked up his bag and hailed a taxi at the front of the station.
“The Apartment-Hotel-Dahlem please.”
The taxi driver pulled away from the station and drove out onto the busy streets. It was cold here, but the rain hadn’t fallen. The taxi ride took about twenty minutes.
At the hotel, Johann greeted the clerk and asked for a bottle of beer to take to his room. With the beer in hand, he walked up to his room. He set the suitcase down near the bed and dropped into the chair. He picked up the phone and called the Funeral Home Schwarz.
“I would like to speak to Uwe Schwarz, please.”
“One moment sir.”
“Schwarz speaking.”
“Hello, my name is Johann von Manntoell. You have the body of my father for cremation and you had agreed to pick my mother’s body up from St Marienberg Clinic in Helmstedt. I was just checking the status.”
“Herr von Manntoell, it has all been accomplished. Your mother and father have been cremated and we have prepared a service at the family mausoleum for this Sunday at 2:00 pm. The notice has been placed in the newspaper.”
“That sounds magnificent. I will see you there at the mausol
eum.”
“We have also completed all the arrangements with the insurance company and the entire arrangement has been paid for. The insurance company will deposit the remaining money to your bank account.
“Thank you so very much.”
“Goodbye, for now.”
Johann sat in the chair of his room and cried himself to sleep, remembering his doting mother always checking on him and his father reading in the chair with a beer.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Johann met with Maggie at her office. He told her that his visit to New York appeared to be a dead end. They both agreed that the Berlin Society of Theosophy had something to do with his father’s murder, but what was still unknown.
“Tell me about your mother, Johann.”
“Why?”
“There may be something there that we have overlooked.”
“I don’t see what, but I will tell you. My mother was the picture of a German woman, and as they say in America, the apple of my father’s eye. She was made from good German stock and related to the German aristocracy. She was the first cousin of the Baron von Hindenburg and was considered a credit to German heritage. She was well trained by a number of her aunts and friends to be a passionate yet strong mother and wife. She was very proud of her role and willing to make any sacrifice to live up to it. Her marriage to my father was arranged when they were both young children. She told me that she was filled with joy as she watched my dad grow into the handsome man that she would marry. They both said that their courtship and marriage was as joyful and exciting as one could hope for. You could feel her passion for my father. Her only frustration was the loss of several children. For my birth there was help. The NAZI Party Cultural Ministry supported my birth. This was a dream come true for my mother. The operations and tests that she and my father underwent were considered a small price to pay for a child. They thought the NAZI Party Cultural Ministry was their salvation. No expense was spared to ensure my parents would have a healthy child. With her pregnancy a reality, my mother was overjoyed. My mom spent her life taking care of my father and me. She was tireless in her care for us.”
“Thanks,” said Maggie. “By the way, a reporter was kidnaped from your parent’s building and held for several days. She is in the clinic recovering from her wounds.”
“Does this have anything to do with my father’s murder?”
“I don’t know. I think there is something, but I can’t prove it.”
“Is she okay?”
“Not really. She has lost some of her memory from the brutal beatings she was given.”
“How can we learn more?”
“Her doctor said we need to give her more time for her to heal. This cannot be a coincidence. The deputy inspector on her case spoke to the last few editors she had worked for. He found one who said he gave her a heads-up on the flat fire in Berlin that killed the resident. The editor explained that he found it suspicious and thought she might be able to get a good story for him.”
“Wow, so she was there to do a story on father’s murder.”
“The other curious fact is that she was dropped off in an alley near a clinic and someone happened to see her and called the police.”
“That sounds arranged.”
“I agree. I am not sure what happened. I continue to speak with the deputy inspector investigating her case.”
“Would it be okay if I visited her?”
“I don’t see why not; I will let the police security know.”
“Thank you, I won’t ask questions about the kidnapping.”
“Take a look at these chalkboards, Johann.” There were now two old chalkboards in wooden frames on wheels with faded black surfaces.
“What have you done here?”
“I have condensed the information in the files to these high points.”
“You have included a board on the Albrecht shooting?”
“That is what I wanted you to see. As I have said, I think the person that killed your father and mother may have also shot Inspector Werner Albrecht.”
“Wait, you think that the shooting of Inspector Albrecht and the kidnapping of Silke Mencken are both tied to my parent’s murder?”
“Yes, I do.” Three crimes in a short time frame that involve violence to a limited group of people.
“That is scary. If you are right, these people have caused a great deal of pain and suffering.”
“Agreed. I will get another chalkboard in here for Silke’s kidnapping. Thank you for stopping by. I need to get back to the case.”
“You are welcome. I will speak with you later.”
Johann walked out of the police department. He walked down the street to clear his mind of all the things he was thinking. The air was cool and he could smell auto exhaust. He needed to look at this information with a clearer focus. Johann saw a café ahead and decided now would be a good time to have a meal. He ordered sliced meats and cheese with a beer and looked out the window at the people walking by. He enjoyed the food and decided what his next steps were. He decided that he would go to the clinic and speak to Silke Mencken. After he was through eating, he caught a taxi to the Oskar-Helene-Heim clinic. He walked up to Silke’s room and talked with the police officer at her door, who let him in. In the room he sees an attractive dishwater blonde haired woman, in her mid-thirties, relaxing in her hospital night coat.
“Hello, Silke Mencken, my name is Johann von Manntoell.”
“My God it is really nice to meet you.” She was hoping she could finish her news story on the fire and death with Johann’s help.
“It is nice to meet you too. I hear that you are doing better.”
“I am, thank you. It is so sweet of you to come and see me.”
“I just wanted to make sure you are okay. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
“Thankfully, I don’t remember it.”
“I was told you are a reporter.”
“Yes, I am.”
“What are some of your stories?”
“I wrote a series on the rise of neo-NAZI gangs that were in the Berliner Zeitung. I also wrote about the decision not to take criminal action against the East German Police after German unification.”
“Those sound like great news stories. I don’t read the newspaper much so I don’t think I have read them.”
“You don’t read the paper?”
“No, I am a very busy and don’t have time to watch television or read newspapers.”
“What is it you do?”
“I am a religious lecturer. I don’t wear clothes of color and I live on church property.”
“Wow, that would make a great story.”
“Maybe when you get better we could talk about it more.”
“So should I call you father or something like that?”
“No, I am not a minister. My colleagues call me brother, everyone else calls me Johann.”
“I’ll call you Johann then.”
“Is there something you need while you are here?”
“I could use some information about your father’s death.”
“I don’t think I could help you with that. Maybe you should let that go for a while?”
“No, I think putting this whole thing together will be good for me.”
“Well I’ll speak to the police, but I can’t promise anything. May I come and see you again?”
“I would like that. It is really nice speaking with you.”
“I’ll stop by again. Maybe tomorrow.”
Johann smiled as he walked out the door. He felt good that she was doing better physically. He hoped that she hadn’t been permanently hurt because of his family. Johann took a cab back to his hotel for a good night’s rest.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maggie arrived early at her office on the fourth floor of the police station on Abschnitt Strasse to update Silke Mencken’s kidnapping information on the chalkboard. She spent an hour reading through the file and put notes on the board as she came acr
oss them. She walked down the hall and got herself a warm cup of coffee. As she poured the coffee, the day shift officers arrived at work. She said hello to everyone as she walked back to her office. She took a seat at her desk and read over the boards. After another hour, she got up and underlined statements on each of the boards.
She noticed that no one had spoken to the waiter at the café near the flat. She was sure Silke Mencken, like most German’s, would have gone there for a coffee and probably talked to a waiter. She immediately walked downstairs to the parking lot and drove out onto the cold, busy streets of Berlin. Maggie pulled the car up to the curb in front of the café. She walked up to the café and took a seat just inside the door. The waiter came over to take her order. They briefly said hello and the waiter gave Maggie a coffee.
“I am looking for a particular server who may have spoken to this woman recently,” she said as she showed him a picture of Silke Mencken. Silke was a young woman in her thirties, blonde hair, and easy on the eyes. She had a bright personality and smiled a lot.
“I haven’t seen her, but let me get my colleague for you,” he said as he motioned for his colleague to come over.
“Julian, this Deputy Inspector would like to ask you about a customer.”
“Hello, Julian. I understand you may have waited on the woman in this picture,” said Maggie.
“Hello, yes, I spoke to this woman recently.”
“Do you remember the conversation?”
“It wasn’t really a conversation. She bought a coffee and mentioned the fire in the flat over there. She asked me if I knew the family. I told her I didn’t. I also told her that the old man came down most days for tea and sat here reading the paper. She said she had heard that the fire was caused by a gas leak and I told her the flats around here are electric. The last thing I remember was that she said it might have been caused by the old man smoking. I replied that I had never seen the old man smoke. She said once again that it was a sad story and I agreed. After she had drunk the coffee, she left.”
“Is that all you recall?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
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